


Dishonesty

by Lotor_Loves_Me



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, klance dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotor_Loves_Me/pseuds/Lotor_Loves_Me
Summary: Keith’s had a passion for dancing, particularly hip hop. Add a couple years of trauma and you have a dancer who’s rusty as iron left out for a year. He loses his vigor and falls into contemporary dance, where he meets an exuberant boy looking to amp up his style, coming from a prestigious ballet academy.What happens when, after an unfortunate series of events, the two soloists are forced to work as one?





	1. Head Turners

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so this is a KLANCE DANCE AU, I’ve been dying to start one for a while. I’m fairly new to this writing thing so any points you have would be greatly appreciated! The work will also feature a few OC’s only one of them being a main character. Let’s get on with it!

It was the first of December, officially six months after Keith had gotten kicked out/dropped out of Garrison High. He only says that because the Garrison had been the ones to tell him that they would not tolerate his undisciplined behaviors and attitude, but he had been planning on leaving the stupid place anyways.

Besides, he’d been preparing for the Auditions. Everyone knew that the auditions for ADC, Altea Dance Company, were right around the corner. Auditions were only hosted twice a year, once in June, and then again in December, or more specifically- tomorrow, and the following day.

Keith had missed the first auditions because he was as rusty as a dancer could be. He hadn’t even attempted a good routine on the floor in around 7 years. Only recently, had the urge to dance become so overwhelming, he’d caved.

He’d been an orphan most of his life, barely able to remember his dad. But what he could recall was that his dad talked about his mother, every day. She had been a dancer, too. That’s when he’d decided to become a dancer, so that a part of his mother would be visible, through him.

His mother was an immigrant child, of Lebanese decent, but born in Mexico. It was only a matter of time before she had been deported, and on that day, there had been a bombing at the border. She was among the 300 believed dead. 

The first of June was also the twelfth anniversary of that attack. So who could really blame him for being in a funk?

Keith shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts. He looked both ways before crossing the street, that would take him to a local park. This park wasn’t particularly significant, but it had a 3 mile trail wrapped around it- the very one that Keith doubled upon, twice a day. He looked down at his watch. 5:59.

He took a deep breath, waiting as the seconds ticked down. When the clock turned, he clicked a small button, and took off running.

He started out fast, as usual, before slowing down only slightly, and falling into a steady pace. His arms cut swiftly at the air and his legs pumped to match. The cold morning air was like a slap in the face- but to his lungs. The somehow deafening silence of the tranquil park managed to empty his head of all thoughts, and reveled in the peaceful, feeling that it brought. A fire of determination began to kindle, as he pushed himself a little faster, eager to try and break his own personal record.

~~~

“ _Mierda_ , get your fat butt off me, Lance!”

The tanned Cuban boy gasped.

“I am _not_ fat!”

“The lack of oxygen in my chest begs to differ!”

“Okay, okay!” Lance grumbled, easily lifting himself off of the smaller girl.

Said girl glared even harder at him when she could finally feel air working through her pathways again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, eyes also narrowing. “You’re the one who wouldn’t get up!”

She glanced over at the clock.

“It’s six o’clock, Lance! SIX O’CLOCK. You know the deal! We do the morning run at five, then you let me sleep ‘til nine!”

The boy only grinned, as if he knew something she did not. She searched his ocean blue eyes, only pausing when her own eyes swept over the calendar on the wall next to him. December 1st. Her eyes widened comically and she struggled to kick her covers off, launching out of bed.

Lance nearly stumbled when she ran up to him, planting her hands firmly into his shoulders and jumping up and down.

“OH MY GOD! ALTEA AUDITIONS ARE TODAY! LANCE WE HAVE TO GET TO THE STUDIO! LET’S GO, LET’S GO, LET’S GOOOO!” She shrieked.

Lance laughed, turning slightly to grab a small stack of folded clothes from a chair and handing them to her.

“I _know_. Get dressed, I’ll be outside.”

Sancia Caerda McClain did just that.

Excitedly, she dashed into her and Lance’s shared bathroom, shedding her nightclothes like snakeskin and hopping into the shower. The ice cold water was a nice wake up call, much better than Lance’s bony bum digging into her chest. Not like she had much of a chest, anyways.

While it would have been nice to have some definition up there, she was somewhat glad that she could still sleep on her frontside, and wear things without a bra. Besides, the definition at her waist and all the area below, was more than she could ask for. She had her Venezuelan and Brazilian roots to thank for that.

Despite her short height, she was all leg, very much like Lance. However her waist was a little thinner, and her hips wider, which made it difficult to find a good pair of jeans that could satisfy those two requirements, and still fit over her thighs.

Turning the nozzle, she climbed out of the shower stall carefully, and wrapped a towel around herself. She applied one of her many face masks, then proceeded to lotion and moisturize the rest of her body. By the time the mask was ready, to be peeled off, she had already slipped into a pair of short compression shorts, and a small cross-strapped sports bra.

She peeled the mask off, quickly rinsed any residue from her face with water, and then applied a moisturizing cream. Over that she added a small little face treatment tonic she and Lance had brewed together, that smelled of roses. It looked as though they were beginning to run low on that. They’d have to make some soon.

She slipped on her cropped purple tank, then quickly brushed her teeth. Spitting out the toothpaste she swished water around her mouth, at the same time, blindly grabbing for her hair brush. Her fingers curled around the handle and when she straightened, she was already dragging the brush through her straight golden brown hair. She pulled it up into a sleek high ponytail, that was Arianna Grande long.

Satisfied, she skipped out of the room and down the stairs of Casa de la McClain. She slipped on a pair of sandals, stuffing her pointe shoes into a bag as she rushed out of the door. Just beyond, as expected, Lance was waiting with a warmed scone in his hand.

“Wow, San,” the boy grinned playfully. “That was almost a new record!”

“Shut it.” She growled, snatching her scone and walking ahead.

Lance easily lengthened his stride to catch up to her, because if they wanted to get there before seven, they’d have to make it there in half an hour. The two began their usual game of I Spy, on the way to the studio, across town.

~~~

Keith had finished his run in 24 minutes. He sat on the floor of his living room at the chabudai, staring angrily at the wall and contemplating why he had missed beating his record by a whole 2.4 seconds.

Keith angrily stabbed his fork into his Eggo waffle, stuffing it with the same vigor into his mouth. He chewed angrily as well. Soon enough he was tired of being angry, and simply sat on the floor contemplating his existence. He knew he should get into the studio early, as well, to warm up and practice before auditions begun.

But, only living four minutes away, he could afford to sit here for another twenty minutes, before he got showered, changed and left- it was only 6:35.

Keith did just as he planned. He sat in the same spot for another twenty minutes, that passed too fast for his liking. He got up slowly, dragging his feet across the floor and to his bathroom, stripping along the way. He gave himself a shower, then got out, changing into a pair of light gray sweats and a loose white tee.

He grabbed his phone and key ring off the counter, and made sure he locked the door behind him before leaving.

Less than fifteen seconds into his walk, his phone began to vibrate incessantly. Keith knew from the pattern of the vibrations, immediately, who it was that was calling him.

“What’s up, Adam?”

“KEITH HELP, YOUR BROTHER WANTS ME TO DANCE AND YOU KNOW I CAN’T, COME ON, TELL HIM I CAN’T!”

“YOU CAN IF YOU TRY!” Keith could hear Shiro yell in the background.

Keith shook his head as the yelling evolved into sounds more like shrieking, wondering why the universe had chosen him to deal with such lunatics before the Sun had even shown.

He listened on a _bit_ longer, before finally hanging up. He was just around the corner anyways. Having finally snapped out of his own train of thought, he saw a car shop across the street.

Hunk’s Garage... maybe he could drop by and help out part time or something. He did know quite a lot about mechanics, having been raised for a short time by his father, and also because of his studying to become a flight pilot hand when Shiro and Adam were still in the Air Force.

It looked as if the light inside the shop was on. He glanced at the studio just besides him, then back at the mechanics shop, before deciding a little detour couldn’t hurt. He crossed the street and pushed open the door, a little bell tinkling merrily as he entered. He walked towards where there was a car slightly suspended by cables, and a large man slid himself out from beneath. He stood, looking over at Keith, and gave him a wide grin.

“Hi!” The guy said, in a voice way too high to be anything older than 17. He walked towards Keith, quickly wiping his hands on his work outfit. “I’m Hunk! You must be new in town.” He spoke again, now offering Keith his hand to shake.

“I wouldn’t shake his hand, if I were you.” A voice said by Keith’s ear, just as he was extending his hand.

His shoulders jump, and he had to fight his instincts to stop himself from whirling around and swinging at whatever had just scared the shit out of him.

“Pidge, I told you to stop doing that to our customers!” Hunk chastised.

Keith turned towards the person called Pidge, finding a somewhat pale but sun-freckled face that was upside down. They wore rounded glasses, and their short hair had bangs which he could tell fell messily like his own, as well as a shorter part that curled slightly in the back. ‘Pidge’ was hanging from one of the shops’ low beam rafters, like this was something anyone would do.

Pidge smirked.

“I have to have my own fun somehow.” They said, flipping off of the rafter and landing neatly.

“Pidge. Birth name Katie, Katie Holt. I’m gender-fluid, so today I’d like to go by he/him.”

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Keith.”

“You Shiro’s lil’ bro?” Pidge asked.

His eyebrows rose slightly.

“You know my brother?”

Pidge laughed.

“Who doesn’t know your brother? The dude’s famous!”

Keith _almost_ smiled.

“If you’re Shiro’s kid brother, then are you headed to Arus right now?” Hunk asked.

Arus was the name of the studio across the street, but it belonged to Altea all the same.

“Yeah, thought I’d get my practice in before auditions kicked off.”

“Cool, I’ll come with.” Pidge said, already walking towards the door.

Keith waved to Hunk, before turning and falling into step besides him.

“You’re auditioning too, Pidge?” He asked.

“You kidding me?” Pidge snorted. “My partner and I have been dancing for Arus for two years now.”

Keith felt minorly surprised. Pidge couldn’t have been older than him, and you had to be at least a senior in high school before Altea would even consider looking at your audition form.

Pidge looked like she knew where his train of thought was headed, and cut him off.

“I skipped two years.” She said.

“You’re 16?” He asked.

“And you’re gay?” She smirked.

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, so they once again fell into silence.

Pidge was no doubt bi, himself, and it figures he would be the first to figure it out. How he’d done it so quickly, Keith would never know. 

Guess you really _can’t_ hide the gay, Keith thinks.

They crossed the street and Keith pulled the door open, holding it for Pidge to enter, then entering behind him. Keith looked around tentatively. He didn’t want to call out, because he didn’t see anybody, despite having been called by Adam only minutes ago. Faint music was playing floors above them. He looked around once more when-

“WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?” Pidge bellowed into the empty hall.

Keith flinched as the shout echoed, and three different doors to the side of the hall opened. The first was the closet.

“Pidge, great timing! Save me!” Adam booked it out of the closet and towards them.

The second door was Shiro, in what must’ve been one of the practice rooms.

“There you are Adam! Language, Pidge!” He yelled, also dashing towards them.

The third was an unfamiliar face. A girl with dark skin but long, wavy white hair had poked her head out.

“Morning... er,” she paused, then took a second to take in Pidge’s attire. “Pidge?” She guessed.

“Bingo!” Pidge gave her an enthusiastic smile.

Allura smiled back, and Keith wasn’t going to lie, she was beautiful. Even Pidge was charming, in his own right. It made Keith feel quite out of place, as everyone in the room looked like they should be on the cover of Cosmopolitan.

“Shiro, would you take your brother to the practice room 5B?” Allura asked.

Shiro paused his chase, and looked back, smiling.

“Of course. Let’s go Keith.”

Shiro led Keith up a stairwell, Pidge followed. They went up four flights, to the fifth floor. As they had climbed, the music that was once faint became increasingly louder. Keith could tell now, that it was Britney Spears’ Toxic, that was playing.

His body began to shiver with excitement, and he knew he had to just get on the floor and dance.

Pidge snorted as she peeked into the room playing Toxic, room 5A. Keith joined her.

Two very lean and tanned teens were in the middle of the room, hips swaying perfectly to the beat. They were partners, he could tell, their chemistry was undeniable. Keith watched the sultry routine, feeling as if he’d walked in on something forbidden. Both were in a table position, feet planted firmly, one hand on the ground and the other tangled in their hair, as they shifted their legs and grinded up against the air. They both flipped over into spread-legged kneeling positions, which is hard to do if you aren’t flexible. Their backs were to Keith and Pidge, and the girl bent backwards sliding her head along the floor with an arch in her back, hands running down her body.

At the same point the boy who was on the left broke routine, both of them seemingly improvising their way through the chorus of the song. And what was amazing was that even though they were each doing their own thing, they were somehow synchronized, every movement complementing and accentuating each others’ perfectly.

The song ended with the girl in a low squat, legs open and her hands on her knees, the boy was in the splits, chest flat to the ground, and the two high-fived.

Keith doesn’t know when he stopped breathing.

Maybe it was when the boy finally stood, then turned slightly as another girl who must’ve been observing from a corner of the room began to talk to him.

Maybe it was when she had said he looked a little stiff, and the boy stared her defiantly in the eye, slowly raising his leg and holding it up in a standing split, and then leaned to the side, into an over split.

Maybe it was when the boy swung his leg down from the split, launching himself into a graceful tumble, leg muscles flexing, which were visible in his short compression shorts.

Perhaps it was the grin that stretched across his face when Pidge finally kicked the door open wide, launching herself at the girl who’d been observing. Keith didn’t know.

But he did know, that the boy was beautiful.


	2. First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance finally meet, and things are definitely a bit rocky. But the two know better than to let their differences deter them, auditions are the most important thing in both their lives right now.

“RACH!” Pidge yells after kicking the door open wide, running to the girl and lifting her, spinning her easily.

“Morning, babe,” Rachel smiles brightly.

“Yeah, morning, babe.” Lance mocks.

His sister punches him, and Pidge shoots him an amused glare.

“Hey, San San!” Pidge cheers louder, letting go of his girlfriend and embracing the smaller girl, the only person Lance knew that was shorter than Pidge.

“Hi Pidge!”

Keith stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, having followed Pidge in, which he regrets. Keith looks around at the people, associating the names with faces. Soon enough, Pidge is back by his side.

“Hey guys, this is Keith! He’s somewhat new in town, and he’s Shiro’s lil’ bro.” Pidge introduces him, and he gives a nod to everyone.

“Hey, mullet! Long time no see.” The boy says, walking nearer to them.

Long time... no... see? Keith stares at the boy, not recognizing him from anyone he’s known in the past.

“Uh, who are you?” He winced internally, not having meant to come off so rude.

“The _name’s Lance_ ,” the boy seems offended. “We were at the Garrison together? We were like rivals, you know- Lance and Keith- neck and neck.” He tries.

“More like neck and foot,” Pidge snorts.

Lance shoots him a glare.

“Shut up, you gremlin.”

“What did you just call him?” Rachel raises a brow.

“You heard me! Your boyfriend’s a gremlin!”

“ _¿Quieres repetir eso?_ ” Rachel spits, eyes narrowing.

Lance didn’t look even a tad nervous.

“Yeah, I’ll repeat it! Your boyfr-”

Rachel, quick as a silver bullet, flicks her sandal upwards and off her foot, catching it. Not missing a beat, she rears back her arm, hurling the shoe at Lance. It misses the boy by a hair. Now he has the decency to look frightened. The two siblings devolve into angry spanish screeching, Keith only catching bits and pieces.

Pidge seemed to know every word they were speaking, as did San. Only he was the loner in the situation, as per usual. With a small sigh, he slunk out of the room.

Luckily enough for Keith, Shiro didn’t notice his short absence. He had just finished setting up the AUX and all that, and was more than happy to show Keith the inner workings of the room’s top-end tech.

Shiro also showed Keith the panel where he could control the room temperature, shaking his head when Keith set it to 80 degrees. Keith liked to work up a sweat, plus the heat kept more people out of his room and out of his way.

Keith began to go through his stretches, and Shiro left to return to Adam, and help Allura and Coran set up.

Meanwhile, Lance had only just found it necessary to surrender.

“Okay, okay, stop!” He shrieks, as Pidge’s Adidas goes streaking past his face.

Rachel, who was reaching for her boyfriend’s other shoe, pauses. With a huff, she seemingly dismissed her brother’s name calling.

“Get back to rehearsing, you two.” She says, and her and Pidge move away to the benches at the back of the room.

“ _¿Ay?_ ” San calls. “Where did Keith go?”

“Guess he left,” Lance responded. “Stupid mullet, walking in here like he owns the place, acting as if he doesn’t know me and thinks he’s the best thing since motorcycles. I’ll show him who Lance McClain is! He won’t ever forget me again, _or so help me God_!”

“Let’s go over our audition piece then, yeah?” San asks.

Lance smiles, and nods. He and San both pull strips of cloth from their waist bands, tying them around their eyes.

Even with their eyes clothed, they can see the room perfectly- nothing but them, the dance floor, and the four mirrored walls.

Lance envisions the space around him, settling into position his position, back to back with San and hand stretched out in front of him. Less than a second later, Rachel hits play on the music.

The first sound resonates, and Lance draws his hand in to his face shakily, while the two of them shift their knees slightly to turn left. He can feel movement against his back, which tells him that San has reached out her own hand in contrast. On the next beat, San draws her hand in, and Lance stretches his out again, hand tremoring violently, as they turn to their right. Next beat, same pattern, and they return to facing center.

Now, Lance reaches his hand up, and San throws hers down. San rises feebly on her toes, and Lance sinks to the ground a bit. Then Lance makes a motion as if falling, to move himself forward and away from San, reaching his hand out again. The next few beats and wisps of sound are portrayed by Lance and San reaching out with shaking hands, moving as though gravity itself was their enemy.

And finally, the real routine kicks off. Lance steps forward with his left leg into a lunge, at the same time reaching out his right hand. His shoulders shake with the beat and on the next shift, he pulls back, dragging his left foot pointedly. He and San both switch their positions so that they’re in a slightly squat-like position, facing each other, Lance’s chest almost touching San’s nose.

**_Yeah, I’d rather be a lover than a fighter..._**

Lance’s right arm goes up and his left down, and San mirrors him. Their wrists flex with the music and Lance turns, his two hands clasping San’s arm. He releases her, pleased that they seemed to be synchronized, and continues the sequence. At some point he latches onto San’s wrist as she spins beneath his arm. He tugs back a beat later and she jerks to a stop.

He legs go quickly and they both reach their right hands up, spinning to that side. San stops just in front of him, bending her legs slightly and she sweeps her arm stiffly in front of her body. As soon as she stops, Lance sweeps his own arm just above her head, and San turns with it.

She snaps her head back to the center as Lance drapes his arms around her, and she angrily whirls her arms one by oneti her side, his following suit. She turns and lifts her legs back, and Lance’s hands, only centimeters away make a straining motion and then sweep down, at the same time San swings her leg forward, carrying her into a run as she pretends to look back.

Now they’re at another stand still, Lance facing where the crowd would be, and San standing with her back almost touching his left shoulder. Another sequence moves like a wave, flowing fluidly from Lance through San, and then theyve twisted ninety degrees clockwise. Hands flash up to their blindfolds and they both turn again, facing each other directly.

Lance sticks his arms around San, but she throws them away from her and they’re moving once more. At a pause, San faces the audience, and Lance shields himself from them, standing with San back to back. San mimes struggling with her blindfold and then they turn. Now at the front, Lance drops his remover cloth to the ground. He ducks when San lashes an arm back, then jumps in multiple elegant spins when she sweeps a foot beneath him. Lance wraps his arms around San shoulders from under her arms and lifts her as she kicks, around to the front.

When she lands from the lift, his arms travel from her shoulders to her hands, holding both and tugging slightly as she arcs her back and leans away from him. San lifts her hands, touching her blindfold lightly, as the two launch into a sequence of quick-footed patterns that are perfectly in time with the rising beat. The two do mirrored 360s, and Lance makes quick work of San’s blindfold, and lets the cloth fall from his hands into San’s waiting ones, just as the beat drops.

San flashes a smile and before you know it, the two fleet of foot dancers are stepping and hopping. They move agilely, the sporadic moves fitting beautifully with the upbeat background.

**_Show me there’s no point in trying..._**

The two both face the left of the stage, and San reaches a hand up and backwards over her head, falling slightly. Lance grabs that hand, twisting her as she falls. San’s bum barely brushes the ground when she dips, and soon enough, Lance is tugging her up into the air. She flies into a split behind his back, and with the same momentum she swings around to his front, wrapping her legs around his waist as he dips her again.

She uses her core to pull herself up against Lance’s chest, and he hugs her, then swinging her off to the side, keeping a hold of her hand as she spins to a stop.

**_And I’ve been quiet for so long._**

When all the music stops, Lance immediately collapses.

“Me too, bud, me too.” San mumbles, sinking to the ground much more gracefully besides him.

“That was... not at all what I expected,” Pidge admits, walking up to them. “I’m impressed.”

“Gasp.” Lance wheezes from the floor.

“Har-har,” Pidge responds.

Rachel throws a water bottle, that lands on Lance.

“Mmph!” Lance complains.

San seizes the bottle and takes a sip, before handing it to Lance. He sits up and chugs down most of it.Pidge and Rachel join them on the ground. Lance sits comfortsbly, mulling over tips from Rachel, who lays on the floor with her legs in Pidge’s lap. San decides to keel over and sleep. Lance tugs her sideways along the floor, until her head lay cushioned in his own lap.

He smiled, tracing the little wrinkle line on the bridge of San’s nose, which showed she was already fast asleep. He traced that wrinkle and smoothed her hair, humming lightly to help her fall into deeper sleep. At some point, Rachel hoisted herself up, and shot a fond look at the sleeping girl, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her hair.

Pidge pressed his own kiss to Rachel’s forehead when she was done, and she had lain her head on Pidge’s shoulder. His eyes drifted over San, marveling at her McClain-like features.

“It’s still a bit hard to believe...” Pidge says. “She looks just like you guys.”

“That’s good, I want her to be seen as family.”

Pidge opens his mouth a bit hesitantly, but is interrupted by a loud bell, signaling auditions sign in.

“A story for another time, babe.” Rachel tells him, and he nods.

“I’ve signed you guys in ahead of time, so let’s get down there for seats, yeah?” Pidge suggests.

Lance nods, and with Rachel’s help, manages to get up to go pack his stuff, without waking San. They decide to leave her for a little bit to rest, and head down to the main hall to claim spots. The find an empty front row nearly center, and place their bags across it. They hang out for a bit, Lance greeting some old friends.

~~~

San wakes up alone.

Her eyes blink slowly, her blurry vision sharpening.

Wincing, she sits up, cracking her neck out of its awkward position. The room is empty.

Suddenly, the room isn’t so bright. It isn’t large. It isn’t welcoming.

Hot panic rises in her chest, the room closing in on her. All she can see is her panicked eyes in the mirror, reflecting her pitiful curled form in the center of the room. Tendrils of smoky darkness curl over the edge of her vision, bringing with it the god-awful sound of static.

It rung persistently in her ears, her breaths becoming shallow and increasingly more difficult to take in. The heat of emotion in her chest begins to claw up her neck, searing her mind. Her temples feel pinched and her head starts to spin, the soft brown of the wood floor fading to gray.

She looks around in a frenzy, not really seeing, not really aware.

_Gone. Gone. Gone._

_He’s gone. He’s gone._

_Did you really think he would stay?_

_If they left you, why wouldn’t he?_

_You knew it would happen eventually._

_Nobody wants a mistake._

_It was only a matter of time before he orphaned you, too._

_Gone._

She vaguely recalls a scream.

~~~

Finally, it looks as though they last of the auditioning dancers are signing in. He allows Pidge to clasp a wristband on, the number it shows signifying how soon he’d be competing. Number 876. He grabs San’s little registration packet, which contained the same things that his had- a wristband, a few papers in need of signing, a pen, a bumper sticker and some tickets to a local diner. However, as he nears the base of the first steps, he hears a scream.

Confused, he looked back at Pidge, and Rachel. They looked just as confused as him. Another scream rang out. Suddenly, his eyes widened. Rachel met his eyes, hers just as wide.

“San!” She cried out.

Lance wasted no time. Those screams could only mean one thing, San had waken. He turned and pushed off, taking the stairs four or five at a time. San had waken, _alone_. Those screams? The result of a lone soul struggling to fight off an impending wave of panic.

At the top of the stairs, he stands upright, realizing that San was no longer crying out. Pidge’s voice rang out from below, as he and Rachel worked up the stairs, asking if San was alright. It took Lance exactly ten seconds of distracted thinking to piece together that she may have passed out, and that’s what he shouted down to them.

His feet moved before he commanded them too, carrying him faster than when he had gone up the stairs. He ran through the already open door, and was greeted with a peculiar sight.

Keith was kneeled on the floor, resting back on his heels, cradling San’s head in his arms. Her arms were thrown loosely around his middle, and she seemed to be struggling for breath.

“Breath, I need you to breathe!” He pleaded.

San’s only response was to choke out more sobs.

“Get away from her!” Lance barked out, rushing to them.

Keith’s head whipped up, and he winced when San immediately clawed for a grip to stand. That girl happened to be his thigh. She stumble-lunged her way to Lance, who fell to his knees, wrapping his own lean arms around her and hugging her tightly to his torso. “Shhhh,” He whispered into her hair, rubbing circles on her back at the lowest point of her spine. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m so sorry, I’d never leave you.” Almost immediately, Lance could feel the tension and the shudders cease. San’s breathing lightened, and her sobs reduced to sniffles. Then, she sat up. She glared at Lance with tired but angry eyes, and slapped him hard on the chest.

He winced, and she crawled back to Keith, snuggling into his side. Lance would have laughed at the mildly uncomfortable expression on Keith’s face as he patted San’s back, if it weren’t for the current situation.

“I’m so sorry, San. You _know_ I would never.”

“Most kids would think their parents wouldn’t, either.” She bit back, and that shut Lance up.

He settled for staring at the ground, and an awkward silence stretched out.

“I know it isn’t my place, but...” Keith spoke softly. “Is this... an abandonment thing..?”

“Ye-”

“None of your damn business, mullet boy!” Lance growled, on his feet, and tugging San away. “Just keep your nose out of other people’s lives.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t so stupidly left a person with abandonment issues!” Keith raised his voice.

“Don’t act like you know shit, mullet.” Lance yelled, even louder than Keith.

Keith’s eyes hardened, and he stood as well. Pidge and Rachel had only just made it into the room.

“You know, I could say the sa-”

_BEEEEEEEEEP._

_ATTENTION, WOULD ALL DANCERS PLEASE MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE MAIN HALL. I REPEAT, ALL DANCERS, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE MAIN HALL._

_BEEP._

Keith, visibly still riled up from before the announcement had interrupted, huffed loudly. He shot one last sympathetic look at San, before he stormed out of the room.

The four stood in silence.

“Lance, what was that? He was helping!” San admonishes him.

“Please, like he knows how to stop you from going into a panic attack.”

“Excuse you, at least he was there!”

“San, I’m sorry! We figured you’d want to keep sleeping, I didn’t know you’d wake up on your own!”

“Stop it!” Rachel shrieked.

“Yes, we shouldn’t have left you here. Pidge and I apologize for that. But,” Rachel continues. “Lance, you had no reason to assume about Keith!”

“So what, I’m supposed to trust a guy I haven’t seen in years? My sworn rival? My enemy? She’s my little sister!”

“And you’re my little brother, so you’re going to apologize!” Rachel snaps, in a tone that says it was more of an order, than a suggestion.

“Whatever!” Lance yells, taking San by the hand, and heading off to the main hall.

~~~

“This year has had the biggest turn out of all auditions in Altea’s history! We have 1150 competitors, today!” Allura’s smooth voice echoes clearly in the dance hall.

Awed murmurs ripple through the seated crowd of dancers.

“Because of this, we will be splitting into more groups than usual, and we will be holding auditions in a different way! May I ask dancers one, through one hundred and fifteen to please stand?”

A large section of the dancers rise, standing awkwardly.

“Great, would you please come into this room here?” Allura herds all 115 dancers into one of the main practice rooms, and Coran disappears inside, with them.

“Okay, dancers one hundred sixteen, through to three hundred thirty, please enter this practice room!” Allura gestures to an open door, manned by a friendly older woman. “This is Ryner, a dear family friend, she will be watching over group two, today.” Allura explains.

“I’m number two hundred fifty-seven.” San whispers, as she stands.

Lance stands with her and gives a tight hug. He grabs her face when he pulls away, bringing it close enough to his own so that their foreheads press together.

“Kick ass in there for us.” She nods, and Lance notices that she seems a bit nervous. “Relax, chica. I’m only on the other side of the door. I’ll still be here when you come back.”

She breathes deeply, then levels a shaky smile at him. She turns and heads off into Ryner’s room. reforestation the door closes, Lance sees a dark-skinned girl with glasses approach her. The two seem to exchange greetings, and began to chat.  
The two are the last to enter the room before Ryner closes the door.

Allura then sends a third group into a room with Shiro and a man that Lance recognizes as Adam. Lance notices Keith trudge towards the room, and Shiro and Adam pull him to the side by the door, and they chat as the rest of the dancers file in.

The fourth group is mentored by Lance’s eldest sibling, Veronica. The fifth is given to Shay, a close friend of Lance, Pidge and Hunk. _Especially_ Hunk.

There are only five practice rooms connected to the main hall, so Lance and the other half of the competition remain to sit in awkward silence.

“My apologies.” Allura says. “But you will have to wait here until the other dancers have finished. You see, from the groups inside, the mentors will select the top ten, and the same will happen to your five groups. Then those one hundred and fifteen dancers will move on to round two of the auditions. Everybody else, unfortunately, will have been disqualified. Any questions?”

“What if you came to auditions as a duo?” A girl with pale skin and pixie cut light blonde hair asks.

“In that case, which I assume is a common concern amongst those in this room, you will simply have to pray that your partner has what it takes to pass this round. If they do, then you must also pass, to continue auditions as a duo. However, if one of you should fail, you may do one of two things. You may continue auditions as a solo dancer and hope that your partner may join you in six months, or, you both ofIt was the blonde from may return in six months and audition again.”

Allura went and sat behind what had been the registration table, seeing as there had been no more questions. The room filled with hushed chatter, but none of it from Lance. His leg bounced impatiently, and his nerves were starting to get to him. From one of the rooms, music began to play. It was too faint to make out the song, but Lance knew that that was how Allura wanted it. He closed his eyes, a strange calm settling over him, as the vibrations of bass tremored through the room.

Lance smiled. _A hip-hop routine._

It didn’t matter to Lance that he’d spent the past 14 years of his life perfecting ballet, it didn’t matter that his lean body was wired for grace and elegance. Because Lance knew, once he passed auditions, he’d get the chance to show the whole world what ever he wanted. He was very versatile in styles of dance, hip-hop coming pretty easily to him. In his mind, it was nothing more than a stiffer, more vigorous, and pompous style of ballet. Lance thrived on the dance floor, and with his background, joining Altea’s top ranks would be nothing but another step forward.

Rachel had fallen asleep against Pidge, who was discussing some tech ideas with Hunk, who had just arrived from across the street. He gave a nod to Lance, noticing that the boy had fallen out of his thinking trance. Lance nodded back. Pidge turned to him.

“Nervous?”

“Honestly?” Lance asked. “A bit, yeah.”

“Don’t be, San and you will do just fine. I expect you’ll make it through to the fourth round without a problem.”

“Fourth round? How many are there?” Lance asks.

“More than four.” Pidge grins.

Lance rolls his eyes. He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and drifting off to a quiet space.

Except, that quiet space wasn’t so quiet.

_I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t so stupidly left a person with abandonment issues!_

_You know, I could say the same to you_.

Lance knows that’s what Keith had been about to say. He so obviously implied that he had experience with abandonement issues. Lance’s rage had gotten ahead of his brain, running off at the mouth and fucking things up like he always did. He sighed. Rachel was right. He needed to apologize.

Just then, a door banged open somewhere off to his left. He sat up, eyes wide, and nearly screamed. San was less than three yards away, rushing at him like a madwoman.

She barely managed to stop, skidding the rest of the way in her socks. She stopped herself by grabbing onto Lance’s shoulders, almost dragging him off his chair.

“Lance!” She breathed. “You’re going to _love_ this first round!”

~~~

Lance was in group eight.

“Lance,” San shook the rapidly paling boy. “Lance, you have to go!”

“It’s Shiro! The winner of the Kerberos Trophy! That guy is like, my hero! I can’t go in there and dance for him!” He shrieks.

“Either you get your butt in that room, or Keith is my new partner.”

Lance shot her a look of disgust.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles.

He makes his way to the room, receiving a high-five from Veronica on the way. Shiro gives him a nod.

“Good luck.” The intimidating man says, causing Lance’s entire body to flush.

“Thanks.” He mumbles a tad shyly, before hurrying into the room.

Shiro shoots Adam a confused look, but the taller man only ruffles Shiro’s hair and whispers something in his ear, which makes Shiro laugh. Lance catches one last glance of San giving him a thumbs up, as Shiro shuts the door. Lance stands near the front of the pack of nervous dancers, and winces when Adam places two fingers in his mouth and whistles sharply. The room falls silent.

“Alright! Welcome to Altea’s auditions!” Shiro calls, and the dancers cheer. “I’m your mentor. You may call me Mr. Shirogane, and this is my... erm, assistant, Mr. Wallace! Before we all start, let’s go through some stretches!”

They form three long rows in the surprisingly large room, and follow Mr. Shirogane through the stretches. This entailed the basics: stretches for the calves, quads, feet, arms. Then they moved on to the It only takes about ten minutes. Finally, Shiro and Adam ask the dancers to spread out, and sit along the wall. They do as they are told, taking up the space along three walls. At the fourth wall, both mentor and assistant sit at a table.

“Okay,” Shiro says. “I will play the thirty seconds of the song that you will be improvising to. No need to worry, all the other groups have and will be using the same song. Mr. Wallace?”

Said man gets up from his seat and opens a panel in the wall behind him, tapping a few button. Lance hears the speakers in the ceiling crackle to life. He presses another button, then sits down. The room is silent.

_**Five...** _

Lance jolts as the bass strikes him.

**_Four..._ **

Unwarranted adrenaline spikes through his bloodstream like a car rounding out the turn of a Nascar racetrack. He nearly snorts as he recognizes the song.

**_Three, Two, One!_ **

Lance smiles.

 ** _Leggo!  
LEVEL UP, LEVEL UP, LEVEL UP, LEVEL UP, LEVEL UP!_** San was right. He was going to _love_ this.

As the others in the room were only just recognizing the song, Lance was already picturing a few moves in his mind. He envisioned himself alone on the floor, the music reverberating all throughout him, losing himself in the beat and rhythm.

Shiro played the excerpt of the song once more, before calling up the first dancer.

“Number eight hundred, six? Ryan Kinkade?” Shiro calls.

A large, well-built boy stood up. The shadows in the room somehow amplified the guy’s mesmerizing, deep skin tone, really setting off the shadows that shifted at his feet.

“Good morning, Kinkade. Are you ready for what is hopefully only your first round of auditions?” Shiro greets him openly.

Kinkade stares at him for a few moments, before closing his eyes and letting out a small breath.

“Yes.” He spoke in a voice that did not warrant any follow-up conversation.

Shiro blinked. 

“Well, do your best. And good luck.” 

Adam turns on the music once more, and the count down begins. Kinkade rolls his neck and shoulders fluidly, and when the speakers finally reach ‘one’, he becomes alight with movement. Kinkade marks the space as his own, flitting rapidly across it with strong and propelling movements.

Lance’s own body itched to move, to copy the gesture he was perceiving, to _improve_ upon them. Yet at the same time, he was entranced. Captivated by the boy’s movement, Lance’s worries came back full force. We’re all the dancers going to be as good as him? Would some of them be even better? He briefly wonders how he ever could’ve thought that he’d breeze through auditions. He wasn’t like Veronica, who had such a profound specialty. Even he, in his early stages of walking, could tell that Veronica was an extraordinary dancer. Her creativity and drive fueled her love for Tap to seemingly far-off extremes.

When the solo part, which every dancer was entitled to, arrived- she’d had no problem launching into a newly devised routine. In a layout of complicated steps and mind-numbingly quick patterns, Veronica had put on a show which warranted less than a second’s worth of thinking on Allura’s part. It’d practically been a shoo-in. Ever since, Veronica’s passion had not fizzled, but instead thrived under the company’s mentor ship. Lance knew he’d have to step it up.

In the time it took for Lance to struggle through an internalized pep talk, around seven or eight times, dancer number 874 had taken the spotlight. Lance immediately noticed the change in the room. It was the blonde girl from earlier, the one who’d asked a question while they were waiting in the hall with Allura. The girl’s light blonde pixie cut fluttered as she passed beneath air vents, swiftly carrying herself to the center of the room. 

“Leofsdottir.” She introduced herself.

Shiro smile calmly.

“Welcome. And good luck.”

“Thank you.” She says.

The countdown starts once more, and she glances towards the side of the room... at Kinkade. Kinkade nods calmly, and offers her a thumbs up and a small smile. The girl nods back, then turns and faces her head down. She begins her dance.

And to be honest? Lance wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the petite girl. But he definitely wasn’t expecting an actual ballet set, to a heavily bass-conformed hip hop song. 

Yet somehow, each pirouette, each jetta, every kick and jump was in perfect unison with the tempo of the music. Lance was most definitely impressed. When the time was up, she walked back to Kinkade’s side, and sat. He offered her a high five, and a few words which were possibly his congratulations, before they fell silent. 

The next dancer was also a girl, another blonde. This girl’s hair was much longer, but also golden, vibrant yellow. Two fairly thick buns sat on either side of her head, secured by bobby pins that didn’t blend in quite well enough. Fly always framed her face cutely and her large magenta eyes fixed on Shiro when he spoke.

“Alright... number eight hundred and seventy-five? You must be Nyma.” 

“That’s me.” The girl’s voice was smooth but flighty, in a way that made La few want to get up and chase after it.

This girl was almost taller than him, which was a few points off his list, though. Not that it matters.

The music kicks up again and Lance all but tunes it out, instead focusing on the floor just under his own two feet. However at some point, Nyma stumbles, and the dancers collectively wince. Like any good show person, she continued on, until the song faded out. The dancers were generous with their applause as Nyma furiously stalked back to her seat.

“Number eight seventy-six? Lance McClain?” Shiro called, eyes landing directly on him.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, Lance wasn’t sure how he felt in the moment), all other eyes also found him. In groups of tan or twenty, heads slowly turned, surfing the walls and landing on him. He’s the only one who’s physical appearance perfectly fit the McClain name.

With a sharp inhale and a few blinks of his dry eyes, he forced his signature large smile across his face. He pushed up from the wall gracefully, body shifting fluidly, like a wave from the sea. Curious and coveted looks of envy locked on his every move.

He reached the center of the room. Shiro smiles brightly at him. And if Lance wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of excitement mixed into his features. Mr. Wallace was also noticeably more attentive.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“...Good luck.”

Mr. Wallace got up once more, to start the music.

Lance could feel his heartbeat in the niche between his jaw and behind his ears. His face felt flushed, heat running a marathon course over the planes of his forehead and cheekbones. His vision sharpened, and he was _ever_ more aware of the people who surrounded him.

He closed his eyes, and his body tingled, his senses trying to compensate and provide for what his eyes currently could not. He inhaled deep and slow, relaxing his muscles and calming the nerves that were firing tingly pinpricks all around his body. He heard the click of a button, and the first beat, his eyes opened- revealing a determined shade of deep, salty ocean blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked having more of a Lance perspective in this chapter! Thanks for all the hits and the two of you who dropped kudos! Means a lot!
> 
> Here’s the dance that Lance and Sancia were practicing!! 
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=GJR5ybWoLrU

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I will try to update at least twice a week, I’ll see if I can make it happen!


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